


Some Debts Are Best Left Unpaid

by china_shop



Category: White Collar
Genre: Episode Related, Fic, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 06:36:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/pseuds/china_shop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mozzie settles a debt. </p><p>Set during 4.09.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Debts Are Best Left Unpaid

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kanarek13](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=kanarek13).



> From kanarek13's prompt, "The true pace of time."
> 
> Many thanks to mergatrude for beta.

> Mozzie: It's a shame you have to arrest her, but it does help me avoid an uncomfortable conversation.  
> Peter: You owe _me_ one: why the hell were you digging into my files?  
>  Mozzie: I brought you a Rai stone.  
> Peter: Right. I forgot. You owe me _two_ uncomfortable conversations.  
>  _\-- 4.08 Ancient History_

 

 

"You know, the true pace of time can only really be measured in children's birthday parties."

Peter froze with his sandwich halfway to his mouth, irritation spiking almost reflexively. A rare lull in the daily grind had coincided with his lunch break, and he was taking the opportunity to eat lunch on a park bench in the sun, far from the office. The last person he wanted to share his brief window of downtime with was Mozzie.

"I wonder when you and El will succumb to the procreational impulse." Mozzie sat down next to him and cheerfully bit into a hotdog. He was wearing a narrow-brimmed straw hat and a green Hawaiian shirt, and both of these things only served to highlight his quintessential Mozzieness.

Peter swallowed his impatience as best he could. Mozzie didn't voluntarily spend time with Suits; this could be a code, something important and Neal-related. Peter kept his tone calm and curious. "What are you doing?"

"Settling a debt," said Mozzie, in a gust of horseradish and mustard. "You said I owed you two uncomfortable conversations."

Peter blinked, remembered, and glared at him. "I meant conversations where _I_ made _you_ uncomfortable, not the other way around." 

"You didn't specify," said Mozzie with a shrug. His eyes mocked Peter from behind those tinted lenses. "So, you shooting blanks? Is that why you haven't filled your suburban castle with the perpetual screams of tiny lungs?"

"I am not talking about this with you." Peter took a bite of his sandwich and looked around at the fountain, normal people going about their normal lives, laughing and gesturing as if murderous conspiracies and ruthless criminals were the stuff of fiction—but the moment was ruined. Peter could feel his blood pressure creeping up. It wasn't that he didn't like Mozzie—the guy had helped him out more than once, and he could on occasion be entertaining. And there was the fellow feeling of knowing that Mozzie was one of the few people in the world who really appreciated how exasperating—and dangerous—Neal's fits of quixotic chivalry and hare-brained schemes could be. But Mozzie was also disrespectful and exhausting in his own right, and this was Peter's lunch break.

"I can understand why you wouldn't want to risk a mini-Suit, but you have to admit, a little baby Elizabeth would be—"

"Enough," said Peter firmly. He sighed and surrendered to the fact of Mozzie's presence. Given the opportunity, he might as well get the inside scoop. "How's Neal doing with the Sam situation? Has he decided what to do about the locket?"

"If he has, he hasn't shared that information." Mozzie cast a dark glance at the world around them. "I think Sam is a bad influence."

"Why?"

"Call it instinct."

Peter privately put it down to jealousy and shrugged. Sam was a new influence; it was too soon to say for sure if he'd be a bad one, though his aversion to the FBI was a bad sign. "If he can help us find Ellen's killers—"

"I think El has a crush on me," said Mozzie. "Just so you know."

"Stop," said Peter. 

"You said _two_ awkward conversations." Mozzie looked cherubic. "She's invited me to the opera again."

"And yet, I feel strangely unthreatened." Peter rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to his lunch.

"Oh, so you're willing to share her? Good to know."

Peter gritted his teeth and turned to the guy. He summoned his best FBI agent voice. "If you don't stop," he said, "I'll arrest you."

Mozzie sat up straight. "On what grounds?"

Peter tilted his head and said quietly, "Where do you want me to start?"

Mozzie stared, his mouth working silently as if he were calculating the odds of Peter making anything stick. Then he wrapped up the remains of his hotdog and stood up. "Debt settled?"

"More than." Peter shook his head. "Remind me to be careful about what you owe me in the future."

"Gladly." Mozzie tipped his hat. "See you 'round, Suit."

As he began to turn away, Peter considered asking him to keep an eye on Neal—it was always useful to have an inside man—but if there were the slightest chance the request could lead to more exchanges like this one, it wasn't worth the trouble. And anyway, Mozzie watched out for Neal as a matter of routine. "Bye, Mozzie," said Peter instead. "Enjoy the opera."

And then he was alone again, anonymous in the city. He checked his watch. Four more minutes before he had to return to the office. He settled back on the bench, with the sun beating down on his shoulders, and made the best of every second.

 

END


End file.
